Half Broken Things
by Niveous Lilt
Summary: I will tell you now, if you deign to listen, the story of an extraordinary young man, and Kagome Higurashi, the fisherman’s daughter


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Inuyasha characters, all are copyrighted.**

**Chapter one: "The Beginning"**

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_Like all things, stories, especially good ones, get lost in the ever changing rivers of time. We as human beings change, of course...as is our nature. We try to live good lives but eventually we follow the rise and fall of the heavy curtain. My story has been told many times, in many different places...in many different ways. One would call it a fairytale I suppose...as mystical as Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White. And no doubt you will anticipate the end of this story, as minds often tend to do. _

_However even if I were to show you my world, you could never truly understand…how could you? My Life was a forbidden mysterious fog in the great forest of a world. I wasn't born into lavish parties, beautiful silk gowns, and rich nutty cakes so sweet the heaven angels stared down enviously as you delicately took one tiny bite, to entice the senses. Like so much in my strange life I was carried there, by the river and the wind. I will tell you now, if you deign to listen, the story of an extraordinary young man, and Kagome Higurashi, the fisherman's daughter._

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The day my mother died, it rained. I wore my best brown wool dress. It was two sizes too big and rough. When I walked, it rubbed against my knees making them look harsh and red. I also wore my best shoes; my one and only pair of leather ones. They were too small, dull, and smelled of fish, a smell, I'm afraid, that never left them.

I stood at the front of the long line of visitors come to bear my mother final respect. My father stood beside me, a tall impasse, his face blank and stoic. Many hours before, he stood in front of the mirror, his eyes red and tears streaming down his cheeks; now he was calm and silent, his face dry…a great mountain king.

His sadness came like soft rains

Mother lay in bed, her face tired and haggard and far beyond her twenty something years. She took short shallow breaths and her eyes would wander erratically. Once, I thought I saw them land on me, but no recognition filled her eyes. It was as if she didn't even know me. I was hoping she would see me; I wore a bright red ribbon in my hair, my mother's favorite color. It sat on top of my head like a withering poppy, sticking out like a sore thumb. I wore it so she could see me; I also wore it because it was my birthday. I was eight that year. Seven, if seemed had lasted so long, and eight had arrived with no preamble, no one to celebrate.

My disappointment came like soft rains.

We stood for many hours, as the line eventually got shorter and shorter, until it was just father, the doctor and I.I was told to wait outside while they talked like adults, and I complied walking slowly, letting the long stringy brown tips of my hair brush my wrists. I pulled the ribbon from my hair, reveling in the feeling of the soft silk breezing past my palms.

Outside the air hung thick and slow like molasses. The rain had slowed to a sad drizzle. Little crowds of people crowded like grapevines in front of our small home. I felt out of place and stood self consciously among the throngs, a lone island. I looked around, out of eyes too wide and too brown for my pale face. Wishing, like I always did for the steely grays of my mother.

Kagura Narukoto, the midwife's oldest daughter, stared at me with something akin to pity in her eyes. Her mouth twisted cruelly in a sympathetic style. And then with more grace than I ever possessed she heaved her slender hips in my direction, and stomped over.

I had never had the "pleasure" of speaking to Miss. Kagura. But this day, the day of my mother's funeral it seemed I would.

"Kagome" she crooned in a low soothing voice. "It really is quite a shame about your mother."

I nodded, my throat suddenly too dry to speak.

"I imagine your father will be looking for a new wife sooner rather than later".

My head snapped up quickly, so fast I got whiplash. I stared at Kagura's pale grinning face, and I felt sick.

"You will tell your father I am interested… won't you sweetie?" her dark eyes were watching me now, quick and calculating like a shark, a hungry shark.

I nodded. Kagura smiled in satisfaction, smoothed her dress, a color too bright for the morose event, and ambled away.

My shame came like soft rains

My father emerged sometime later, the crowd had dispersed and the muggy air had frizzed my hair into something unrecognizable. The sun was just beginning to peek over the clouds for the first time that day, and the rays felt good against my damp skin

My father, always had good form, but today it was if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders, a burden too heavy to carry. He walked over to me with the steps of someone far older than he and far wiser then him. His face was wet, from the rain or the tears I didn't know, and his mouth was set in a thin hard line like marble

"Kagome" my name sounded foreign on his lips. I thought for a moment he would ask about molly.

"Yes father?"

Father began to sob now, deep heartbreaking sobs that shack the frame and the mind. He grabbed on to my cool shoulders with shaky hands, hot fire streaming down his face. Before this day I had never seem him cry.

His tears came like soft rains.

"Kagome", he choked. "What I do…I do for love"

I didn't understand then. Love for me or love for mother. What he had done in the past, what was yet to come?

He pulled me into a hug. I was shocked; my father had never embraced me. When my eldest brother died from sickness, father became cold and impassive too me. I think it's because sometimes he sees something in me, which makes him remember.

I held him back, my skinny arms wrapped about his impressive frame. He sniffled and the pulled away. I looked around; no one remained in the courtyard.

He ushered me in to the house and sat me down at the table. I watched as he fumbled around and attempted to make me a meal from the meager scraps we had in our kitchen. I don't think I had ever seen father make anything but his tobacco, so I was amused.

Finally I could not bear to watch him suffer any more so I made us some hot biscuits. The last of our dough. We sat in silence while they baked, and when they were finished…we ate.

Soon father pushed back from the table and grabbed my arm pulling me back outside. The stark difference in temperature made me shiver violently.

"Father?"

He did not answer.

When I was young the thing I loved most about our home was that it sat back into the winding roads of the village. You could hear someone coming for miles up the long diligent roads. The stale soothing noise of hoof beats against the dirt.

Today the hoof beats sounded like ominous clanging, and I was frightened.

The carriage was a big hulking thing, Old black and rickety. A tall thin man unfolded himself from the cart. The horses' whinnied and he reprimanded them in a sharp tongue unfamiliar to me. He had a very thin face, and long dirty blonde hair he had tamed into a ponytail. My father, greeted him as…"Jaken"

I was thrown into the carriage by my wrist. My father hastily passed me a satchel of belongings. His face was dark and grave.

I did not ask what was to happen. I did not cry. I did not speech or say goodbye. I would like to think our goodbyes were said earlier. My father opened his mouth to speak, but I suppose thought better of it, and it snapped close with a click. Jaken handed my father a small brown bag. I could hear the 'clink'. I knew then it was money.

My sorrow came like soft rains.

Jaken strolled to the front of the carriage; I felt it tip under his weight. With a soft click noise. We were off.

I watched from the back of the carriage as we rumbled away. My father stood bent over, his heavy cloak glinting in the dull light. I watched until I could no longer see the hard planes of his face, and then I watched until he was just a vague spot on the hill, and I watched until…he disappeared completely.

I never saw my father again.


End file.
